Delicate
by more-than-words
Summary: Everyone has a breaking point. Perhaps the Doctor and Rose have found theirs? Angsty 'what if' story, 10Rose. Complete.
1. Part 1

**Disclaimer: **It isn't mine. It belongs to the BBC, the nasty evil people. They're the reason I keep having trouble with the licence fee people. Grr.

**Summary: **Everyone has a breaking point. Perhaps the Doctor and Rose have found theirs? Post-Doomsday, with some of my "crafty" plot changes… (that is, I changed the ending for my own amusement and purposes.)

**Rating: **T. Part 3 might have to go up to M, so beware! LOL as if that'd put you off!

**Part 1/3, probably…**

**A/N: **And so, I have finally succumbed to the post-Doomsday 'what could have been' mulch. This is yet another version on what might have happened if Rose had only held onto that lever for a little while longer. I hope you don't hate me for it. Please review! Jen xx

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_I'll give you everything but I won't give you up._

It has been at least two hours since she last said anything. She is sitting on the floor of the TARDIS, back against the wall, seemingly not noticing as he runs around madly in order to close every last gap left between this universe and the next. And there, somewhere in that gap- in that insatiable void- is the stuff of nightmares, the stuff he knows will surely come back to haunt him one day. Evil doesn't disappear easily; it always returns no matter what. Permanence is a figment of an idealist's imagination, he knows.

He glances over at her as he works, his hearts pounding against his rib cage as he keeps an eye on the slow rise and fall of her chest, terrified at the fragility of this; this thing that they share, the space between them that threatens to gape and tear them apart, this delicate shell-like existence. He hopes that she isn't already broken.

He presses buttons without thinking about it, doing what he has to without much thought for the consequences of his actions. It hurts too much to think about that. He is trapping her here with him now, sealing her off from the family she should have stayed with to be safe and happy on a new world without him. He cannot tell her how glad he is that she came back to him; it makes him sound selfish and weak for not having the strength and defiance to send her away again. She almost died because of him today.

A couple of suitcases and a box sit at her feet, possessions and important items from her mother's flat packed away neatly and compactly. She has become a true traveller now- all ties with Earth severed now she has no reason to return. He can see the regret in her eyes as she looks up at him, eyes wide and wet with so many unshed tears. She rises slowly, gripping the rail for support when her legs wobble slightly with the effort. 'Tea?' she asks quietly.

He nods, knowing she needs these little normalities to make everything seem all right again. 'Please,' he replies, stopping his current task to turn and look at her properly.

She gives him a small, sad smile and turns her back on him. She has not walked more than a few steps away when his voice stops her dead in her tracks.

'You should have stayed with your mother,' he says quietly.

Her head drops, but he can still see her nod. 'I know,' she admits, and he can hear the tears in her voice.

'I'm glad you didn't though,' he continues before he can stop himself.

She nods again. 'I know,' she whispers.

'I should have sent you back again, to be safe.'

She begins to shake. 'Probably.'

He can hear the tears in her voice, but it isn't until he tells her how desperately sorry he is that she really begins to cry. 'I'm so sorry,' he says, and she turns around to face him, silent tears rolling down her cheeks. She makes no sound other than a slightly ragged breath every few seconds. It kills him to see her like this, knowing deep down that this is all his fault. He goes to her. He takes her in his arms and holds her tight against his body, letting her cry until her tears soak through his shirt to make his skin damp. She mumbles something into his chest but he doesn't quite catch it. 'Rose?' he asks her quietly.

She pulls her head away from him slightly, staring at the hollow of his throat as she answers him, her voice thick with anguish. 'Do you want me to leave?' she stutters out, flexing her hands against his chest as though she is unsure of what to do with them.

The Doctor shakes his head in astonishment, holding her more tightly and hoping like hell that she doesn't think he wants her to leave. He hopes she doesn't want to leave. 'What would make you think that?' His voice is slightly surprised, and caring and affectionate and laced with worry. Something inside him breaks.

She hiccups as she tries to calm her breathing, not wanting him to see the extent of her devastation. 'You sent me away but I came back anyway,' she whispers, resting her forehead against his collar bone so he can't see her shatter.

'Rose,' he breathes out. 'I just… I just wanted you to be safe. I didn't _want_ you to leave me.' He drops his head to rest on top of hers. 'I couldn't bear to watch you die, not like that. Not when you could be safe with your family in the other universe.'

'I screwed it up.'

'No!' He almost shouts the word, pulling away to grasp her firmly by the shoulders. 'No, you didn't screw anything up, Rose. You… You were _amazing_. It was all my fault, really. I put you in that awful situation and I put your life on the line. I almost lost you… And then I go and almost kill you.'

She takes a deep breath, pushing all thoughts of her mother and father and Mickey out of her mind. She can't let him feel guilt like this, not when he's just risked everything to save the stupidly ignorant human race. 'But it's all okay, Doctor. We're both still here, yeah? It's all right now.' She slides her arms around his waist and pulls him into a hug, all the emotions she has been trying to bottle up pushing closer and closer to the surface once more.

He shuts his eyes, tilting his head back so she can't see the tear that leaks out to run down his face. 'How can you be so forgiving?' he whispers. 'How can you comfort me when I take you away from your family and then put you in the line of fire? You should hate me.'

'But I don't,' she says insistently. 'I don't hate you. And it was my choice to come back, yeah? I said I'd never leave you and I meant it. And plus… That wouldn't have been such a bad way to die, I guess. We were doing what we always do best: saving the world. Dying then wouldn't have mattered if it meant everyone else lived.'

'God, Rose,' he growls, more to himself than to her. 'Can't you see? Can't you see you're worth so much more than that?'

She breaks then. The lump in her throat dissolves in one go as the meaning of his words ensconces around her. He means that she is worth more to him than the entire human race put together and if it came down to it, he would have a tough time deciding whether to save the Earth or her, six billion lives hanging in the balance. And today, he tried to save both. She realises how terrified he must have been when she came back and told him that she wanted to help him, knowing that if something went wrong he might not be able to save her this time. She can't believe she's done this to him. 'I'm sorry,' she says, echoing a phrase she has heard him say too many times. 'I'm so sorry.'

He holds her close once more, her body shaking violently in his arms. 'It's not your fault, angel,' he tells her, though he knows his words will be meaningless to her. 'None of this is your fault.' All he can do is hold her as the weight of the universe settles around her shoulders, pushing against her with that all too familiar pulsing sensation he has come to know so well over the years. His gaze wanders over to the suitcases by the wall and feels a sharp tug deep inside him. One woman's life condensed down into three suitcases and a box of mementos. It doesn't seem enough, somehow.

_Putting Jackie on the list of the missing had been the hardest part. He had told Rose they had to do it, a look of sympathy on his face and a feeling of dread spreading through him. He had expected her to protest, to yell and to object, but she had sat silently in her mother's too-quiet living room, simply nodding and blinking back tears. He had left her sitting there whilst he made a brief statement to the police, not surprised when he came back to find her in the exact same position she had been in when he left. He had taken her away from the flat then, knowing that staying there any longer would probably drive her insane. As they had gone back into the TARDIS, he felt an emotion spreading through him. He couldn't decide if he should call it hopelessness or hope, knowing that there was often not a lot to distinguish one from the other. Rose had lost her mother, but she had gained a whole new life of opportunities with him, if she would only take it. He had almost lost her, but she was still here, holding his hand- too tightly, as though she was scared he would disappear if she let go._

And now, here they stand, bodies pressed together as they seek comfort and life in each other's arms. Only a few cracks in space and time remain, but he is finding it hard to extract himself from her embrace so he can go and heal them. To do so would be to make everything final, to admit that this is the way things are now, and he can't quite bring himself to do that to her. Not now, not yet. 'Rose,' he whispers into her hair. 'You wanted some tea?'

He feels her nod hesitantly against him and he pulls back to look into her eyes. She opens her mouth as if to speak, then closes it again and he knows that she is biting on the inside of her cheek. There is a vacant look on her face that he can't quite decipher, but he suspects she is trying to hold herself together whilst working through the vast array of emotions he knows must currently be coursing through her.

He wants to tell her that it's okay to let it all go; he will be here to catch her if she falls. Instead, he settles for taking her by the hand and gently, slowly leading her towards the kitchen to make some tea. One small step at a time, he decides.

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**A/N: **I'll love you if you review. Next part should be up by Saturday, but definitely by this time next week. Jen xx


	2. Part 2

**Part 2 of 3, dedicated to Luna Lovegood5 for her lovely review of the last chapter :D It made me get excited… hehe. **

**A/N: **Angst galore in this chapter! I don't think I like it very much, partly because I've never really written anything like this before and partly because the angst is starting to drive me somewhat insane. LOL. Let me know what you think about it, because I'm really not sure. Just couldn't seem to get this bit right… Ah well! Please review it, Jen xx

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She sets her empty cup down on the table with a quiet _chink_. Her eyes still hold that faraway dead look, but at least there is a bit more colour in her cheeks now. 'Thank you,' she says, her voice croaky from the tears still clogging her throat.

'You're welcome,' he replies. He wraps his hand around hers where they lie on the table and gives them a gentle squeeze. She gives him a sad smile in return, the expression falling short of reaching her eyes and he has to turn away from her for a moment. He wants to help her through this so much, but he is unsure of where to start when he is so distraught himself. Everything could have ended today. The situation he was forced to deal with has long been a nightmare of his- two of his deadliest, most cruel and unforgiving enemies pitched together in the same battle with him caught helplessly in between the two, along with the whole of the human race. Everything he has spent his life fighting for is now crumbling around him. What, he wonders, is the point in sacrificing the good when evil still prevails? The Daleks should have been long dead except for in his dreams and yet they're still fighting no matter what he does, no matter how many he kills to be rid of their evil. He wonders briefly if he is still dreaming, his whole existence one big, long nightmare.

Except for Rose, the source of the light and hope in his life. The innocence and purity that he craves and feeds off in order to keep him sane, to remind him why he does all that he does, his whole reason for happiness. The reason he knows that this isn't a nightmare. And that was nearly taken from him today. He curses himself for that, as well as the Daleks and the Cybermen and Torchwood. He has to keep reminding himself that he is not the only guilty party, but it's hard when he is the only one left to deal with the effects of the aftermath.

'Doctor.'

The sound of Rose's voice calls him back to her. He faces her once more, noticing in horror the bruises on her skin from the events of the day. He wonders how he failed to see them before, along with streaks of dirt and cried-away makeup. He feels the urge to wash her clean, take all of her scars and pain away.

'I'm never gonna see my mum again,' she whispers, her eyes big and wide like a five-year-old child.

He shakes his head, knowing he cannot lie to her. 'No,' he replies. 'You're not. I'm sorry.' And he means what he says.

'Don't be sorry,' she says in a small voice. 'It's not your fault. It was all my choice, remember?'

'That doesn't make it any easier,' he tells her.

His words pierce somewhere deep inside of her and she feels herself cracking wide open, vulnerable and exposed. She pulls her hands out of his and lowers her head to the table, using her arms as a pillow. She wants to cry and let it all spill out and drain away, but now the tears won't come. Her eyes are dry, and she hates herself for not being able to cry for her lost life and family. It has only vaguely registered that her mother has been reported missing back on Earth, and that sooner or later that status will be changed to "dead". Her head throbs from the stress of the day, and she feels her muscles spasm in protest as the Doctor lifts her out of her chair to stand beside him.

He takes her hand in his and leads her out of the kitchen, their empty cups lying forgotten on the table. She doesn't register where he is taking her, her brain seemingly unable to process anything but confusion and regret and despair at this point in time.

The Doctor leads her through the corridors of the TARDIS, casting a worried glance at her every few seconds. He suspects that she is sliding into shock; it was only a matter of time until her brain shut down to protect her from the agony of what has happened, he knows. They reach their destination, and he takes her inside the large bathroom, coming to a stop next to the shower. He lets go of her hand for a moment so he can turn on the water. It sprays down in a heavy stream and he adjusts the temperature until it's so hot it's almost scalding, knowing they both need some sort of pain to remember what it's like to be alive. And then he turns back to Rose.

She appears not to notice as he undresses her slowly, carefully removing her zip-up top and her t-shirt before kneeling to remove her shoes and slide her trousers down her legs. His hearts thump a little harder at the sight of the bruises on her arms and ribcage that he assumes she obtained in that room in Torchwood Tower when millions of Daleks and Cybermen were flying past them at colossal speeds. Under any other circumstances, he would be uncontrollably excited at the sight of her standing before him in her underwear, but now he is detached and passive, knowing that she needs him to take care of her and be her friend, her grip on reality.

He stands to undress himself, shrugging out of his suit to let it drop where he stands. He reaches one hand out to test the temperature of the water before pulling off his underwear and turning back to Rose. She is gazing at some point over his shoulder as he reaches behind her to unhook her bra and then slide her underwear down her legs. He keeps his eyes planted firmly on her face as he takes her hand and leads her under the hot spray of the shower with him.

The scorching water pours over them both, and the Doctor can almost feel the agony of the day begin to seep out of him. No matter how many horrors he sees, no matter how bad they are, a hot shower always helps to start the healing process. He is glad Rose is here with him now; she gives him something to focus on beyond his own pain. He only wishes that he could take her pain away from her and pile it on himself; she shouldn't have to feel like this, she should be able to keep her innocence.

He begins to wash her carefully, lathering soap on his hands before rubbing it gently down her arms and across her stomach. She shivers beneath his touch despite the scalding temperature of the water, and he tells himself not to read too much into it. Not in this situation. She probably feels frozen inside.

The dirt and grime of the day wash away easily, streaks of black making their way down the drain. The bruises remain on her skin, dark smudges that look like they should rub off with the rest of it. He runs his hands over them again, pressing more firmly against her skin until she gasps and pulls away slightly, the dull ache turning to a stabbing pain momentarily as the Doctor frantically tries to scrub her clean.

She lifts her head to see the intensely wild look in his eyes, and reaches out to still his hands on her body. She takes the sweet-smelling soap from him as his arms fall back to his sides. He watches as she lathers soap over his body, her movements over his skin almost methodical, robotic. She frowns slightly as she rubs the soap behind his ears and down his neck, as though she is only just realising what is going on. The soap drops to the floor as he places his hands on her shoulders and walks them both back under the spray to wash the soap away.

Rose lifts her hand to run her fingers carefully over a bruise on his collar bone and he shivers involuntarily under her touch. He cannot help but react to the feel of her hands on him, especially now he has come so close to losing her. The fact that she is still here- still with him, still touching him- is amazing, and he can feel the warm flush spreading out from his collar bone to reach every last atom in his body.

Steam surrounds them in the shower and Rose feels the fog begin to sweep over her mind once more, her moment of clarity fading into the background. The Doctor's arms catch her around the waist as she stumbles against the shower wall, anchoring her to him. Her mind is playing over the events of the day on a loop, blocking out everything else around her. She is only vaguely aware of the Doctor reaching out to switch off the water before wrapping her up in a big fluffy towel and lifting her up in his arms to carry her to her bedroom.

'Rose,' he says, more than once. 'Rose, stay with me.' His forehead is creased with worry as she lies stiffly in his arms.

_The ghosts, Torchwood, Cybermen, Daleks, her mother and father, the other universe, the Doctor, saving the world, almost being sucked into the void, the Doctor's arms around her, tears, never going to see her mother again, stuck here, alone, it's all gone wrong now… How did it get to be this way?_

She squeezes her eyes shut against the whirlwind of thoughts and images cascading through her mind, not strong enough to deal with the pain right now. She knows she will be able to work through it later, with the Doctor by her side holding her hand, helping her in the way that he always does. She feels useless; wants to be able to help him too; after all she loves him and chose him over her family, but there is too much in her head right now to make room for his pain too. She hates herself for it. Something flickers inside her as the Doctor carries her into her room, sitting her down on the bed and taking the towel to dry her as best he can. She wants to help him, needs him to know that she knows it will all be okay. Eventually. They can get through this the way they get through everything else, and they will come out stronger on the other side. She doesn't know if that will be a good thing in the long run or a bad one. Perhaps it will help them to love each other more easily than they could before; perhaps it will make them too dependent. Perhaps it will make it easier to accept and understand the sacrifice when they are finally torn apart. Perhaps it will break them both.

The Doctor is surprised when Rose reaches out for him, her arms coming up to wrap around his back and pull him close to her. He rests his hands on her shoulders and looks down into her eyes. Signs of life and acceptance and hope sparkle there, the dull sheen he had seen there earlier pushed away to the edges. He smiles softly at her and she smiles back. The sadness is still there, and the guilt and the regret and the pain, but he can see that she is realising that everything will be all right; that they will be together and support each other whilst they come to terms with all that they have lost.

'Rose,' he whispers as he moves forward to put his arms around her.

He slides them both under the covers of the bed, his still-damp body cradling hers against him, protecting her. She wraps her arms around him and he can feel her hot tears spilling onto his chest as the barriers break inside her and the pain starts to spill out of her, the wounds in her soul very slowly starting to heal.

'Doctor,' she says, sounding like a small child. 'Doctor.'

He can feel her breath on his skin as she opens and closes her mouth, unsure of where to start. 'Shhh,' he says. 'It's okay angel. You don't have to say anything.'

She nods against him, her wet hair spreading over his shoulder and he holds her tighter still, her current tears and vulnerability hurting him more than all else that has occurred today. He wants to shield her, protect her from the horrors of the universe and the pain of loss and hard decisions. He hates himself for being the one to introduce her to so much evil and hardship.

His lips meet her forehead in a soft kiss, as though he can draw her hurt away through the simple contact. She leans into the touch, her breath hot on his neck and the rivers of her tears beginning to slow slightly. He kisses her again, this time on the temple, and he sucks lightly on the pulse point he finds there, smiling against her skin as she shivers and presses close to him. Something else begins to seep into her mind, something besides the feelings of guilt and regret and loss. Something good, something sweet. Something she has wanted for a long time.

The Doctor wonders briefly what he is intending to do here, wonders how far he is going to take this. He knows it would be right to pull away from her now, to simply wrap her in his arms and gently rock her to sleep so that they can deal with this in the morning when they are both well-rested. But now he has tasted her skin, he can't seem to stop.

He needs this, the feel of her skin beneath his lips reminding him that there is good still left in the universe, that there is still something worth fighting for. That there is still something left for him to live for. It reminds him that she is still here, that she hasn't left him. She came back for him. She'd had the choice to go and be safe, but she had chosen this- chosen _him_- instead of security and a mundane life. His lips touch her cheek as her hand rests against his chest to feel the beat of his hearts, and he knows in this moment that he must love her.

He feels the sting of tears pricking behind his eyelids as he moves his lips over her face, ghosting over her cheeks and pressing down lightly on her forehead. He loves her and in this moment, he _needs_ her.

'Rose,' he whispers, pulling back momentarily to gaze into her eyes.

She looks back at him with the wide-eyed innocence that she still hasn't lost despite all she has seen and done. 'Yes?' Her fingers run lightly over his chest.

He lowers his head towards her again, determined to take away the pain from both of them before this night is over. Or, at the very least, make them both forget it for a little while so they can feel normal again, feel _alive_.

'Tell me to stop,' he says, his lips hovering centimetres away from hers.

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**To be concluded…**

**A/N:** Part 3 will be up before Christmas sometime. (Expect the rating to go up!) I'd love it if you'd leave a review… Jen xx


	3. Part 3

**WARNING: M-rated. **Sure I don't have to tell you that M means Mature hehe. Still, you're all mature, sensible people yourselves (well, some of you are) and I'm sure you won't find this too bad. It contains sex, but it's not all that explicit. Not bad at all, really. I'm making it out to be worse that it is. Still, better safe than sorry, eh? Don't want to offend anyone in this day and age, might get an ASBO…

**Part 3 of 3. Thanks to everyone who's read this. It's dedicated to everyone who has reviewed and/or has taken issue with the supreme nasty unfairness that is Doomsday. Hope you enjoy.**

**A/N: **Woo last chapter! Hope it's good and all that jazz. Please review! Jenni xx

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_He lowers his head towards her again, determined to take away the pain from both of them before this night is over. Or, at the very least, make them both forget it for a little while so they can feel normal again, feel alive. _

'_Tell me to stop,' he says, his lips hovering centimetres away from hers._

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He shifts to lie over her, one hand cupping her cheek gently. He can see the emotions warring in her eyes as she considers his words. Lust and want, hesitation and slight doubt all flicker over her face before she gives him a small smile and he sees in her what he is currently feeling himself: need. The need to give in to desire and temptation for a while, the need to feel at one with someone who knows the way you're feeling, the need to let go and _fall_.

'Don't stop,' she says, although the words are barely audible.

She keeps her hands on his chest, pressed firmly over his hearts as though she is checking he is still with her. Her breath catches in her throat as he brings his face close so that his nose touches against hers, his breath warm over her mouth and chin. She unconsciously strains upwards to be closer to him, the last few shards of doubt about what she is certain is going to happen disappearing as he closes in around her. The slight nervous feeling remains in her stomach.

'Just forget it all,' he whispers, referring to all the horrific events that have happened today. He kisses her softly, sparks of life flying through him as soon as he touches his lips to hers and he wonders why they haven't been doing this all along. Pulling back slightly, he speaks again. 'Focus on me, angel,' he says. 'Let it all go.'

He is amazed by how much a simple kiss can repair the damage that has been done to him. He feels as though wounds are closing, the darkness is fleeing and windows of opportunities and light are opening up inside him, all his senses flooded with the brightness that is his Rose. He becomes more confident that everything will be okay, that he will be able to fix her as his mouth moves over hers in that timeless dance that he is sure will never get old.

One of her legs slides between his as her hands move around to run over his back, her touch making him tremble above her. She presses down lightly between his shoulder blades, the covers slipping downwards to make him shiver in the cool of the air. He presses closer to her for warmth, his chest brushing against hers lightly. He starts to shake as he locks his gaze with hers, suddenly overcome with emotion for the woman in his arms.

'Rose,' he says, her name like a benediction to him. His hands run over her skin in reverence before he leans down for another kiss.

He fights with the intensity of his emotions, determined to take this slowly and make it last. He is all too aware that once this is over they will have to deal with their nightmarish situation once more. He touches her lips with his tongue, slowly learning the taste of her, her texture and the way she moves beneath him.

She tastes like most others he has kissed; that slightly off-water taste, like the aftertaste of tea or rainwater on a warm summer day. But the feel of her is different; she fits with him better than anyone ever has before, her lips moving to meet his halfway and her tongue sliding along his as he uses one hand to open her mouth so that he can explore her better.

He learns the lines of her mouth, the ridges of her teeth and the strangely soft roughness of her tongue, all thoughts of death and loss gone from his head as he lets himself fall for her again and again, holding her against him like she is something precious. He lets his hand wander to her breast, touching her gently with his eyes on her face so he can learn her reactions. He smiles into their kiss as her hands flex against his back, pulling him against her and trapping his hand in between them. He moves to suck on the pulse in her neck, loving the fact that it begins to throb faster when his lips connect with her skin.

Rose moves her hands down to run over the Doctor's hips, tracing the bone and soft flesh with her fingers, intent on exploring him as he is her. She wants to cry at the things he is doing to her, his feather-light touches and delicate caresses breaking her wide open and leaving her vulnerable and exposed in his arms. And yet it feels amazing, his every touch amplified one million times by the intensity of the situation and the ebb and flow of the emotion between them. She is more than willing for this to go on forever, her pain a distant memory at the back of her mind now that they are sharing in it together, revelling in it and squashing it down. She gasps as he slides his hand down between her legs, touching her carefully to test if she is ready for him.

'Okay?' he breathes, his free hand brushing her hair from her face and his lips brushing against hers, reluctant to move even a hair's breadth away from her.

She nods and gasps again, feeling him move against her as he moves his hand away to rest at her waist. 'Yes,' she whispers, kissing him once more.

They cling to one another as he slowly presses inside her, a sheen of sweat breaking out on his skin as he grapples with the remainder of his self-control.

'It's okay,' she tells him, knowing in this moment that everything will turn out to be okay, feeling good that she can muster the strength to reassure him in the situation. She whispers into his ear: 'Let it all go.'

And he does, pushing into her as far as he can before holding himself still and pulling his face back so he can read her expression. Something shatters in his chest as he sees the trust in her eyes alongside the tears inevitably produced by such a powerful and emotional act. He doesn't think he has ever felt anything quite this incredible or intense despite his nine-hundred years worth of experiences. 'Rose,' he says, unsure that he would be able to say anything else even if he wanted to. As it is, her name is the only word he wants to speak.

He begins to move within her slowly, not surprised when the tears start to fall from them both. It was always going to be this way, he realises; no matter how they came together, they would never have been able to avoid the crushing intensity of their union. It represents so much, this act, not least trust and care and devotion and love. Love, the one he is the most afraid of but the one that means the most. And there is no escaping it now.

He shifts to kiss her again, the slight change in angle causing him to hit her deeper, making her tremble against him and her tears becoming audible sobs in the hush of the room. It is hard and soft, fast and slow all at once and he hears his cries join with hers as he feels himself losing to the whirlwind of emotion and need coursing through him. It's sweet and bitter, beautiful and harsh, amazing ecstasy and complete agony and anguish all at once.

Neither of them last long, breaking apart at the same time with cries to God and other deities, breathing each other's names out as they come down from their shared high to lie together, faces wet from crying and sweat soaking them both. They shiver simultaneously as the cool air breaks through their contented haze, and he reaches to pull the blankets up around them once more.

Her hands grip his arms as he rolls to cradle her against his chest, his lips pressed into her hair as the trembles subside gradually. They are silent for a long while, unmoving, and he waits until he feels her grow heavy with sleep against him before shifting her slightly in his arms and pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. His own eyelids are becoming heavy now, and he allows them to close. His body relaxes into sleep around her, the atmosphere around them both considerably lighter than it was when they had begun.

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Two days later, they sit at the kitchen table together sharing yet another cup of tea. He has come to realise how much he cherishes these moments with her, these small acts that bring him more pleasure than he ever would have thought possible. It's even better now he gets to hold her in his arms whilst they drink, he muses.

He lets the scalding liquid burn his throat as he swallows, still needing the slight pain it brings to remind him of all that has been lost and everything that has hurt them. He cannot afford to be too happy, or else it will hurt all the more when it all finally comes to an end. He places his cup on the table so he can run his hand over her arm as she sits leaning against him, one hand clutched around her own burning hot mug as it rests on the table.

She has been quiet over the last couple of days, and he knows that she is working everything out in her head, coming to terms with what has happened and the way everything will have to alter now the universe has changed so much. She has cried for her mother, for Mickey and her father, alternating between pulling him close and pushing him away whilst she battled with the emotions inside her. She has apologised every time she has let a tear fall, and he has told her not to apologise every time the word "sorry" has left her mouth. 'You always say it,' she had said to him in retaliation when she had _needed_ to feel guilty and hadn't been able to take his insisting that none of it is her fault.

She shifts against him now, leaning her head on his shoulder and closing her eyes. She feels better than she did, starting to accept the choice she made and the consequences of her actions. She just wishes that it didn't have to hurt so much, but she knows she never would have been able to cope in the other universe- never would have been able to cope without him. She knows she would have come through it eventually and lived a good life- for him, all for him- but it would never have been the same. At least here, in the universe she knows and thinks of as her own, there will always be the chance of him coming back even if he does one day decide to leave her behind.

'Doctor,' she says, suddenly feeling selfish for spending the last few days worried about her own emotions without stopping to see if he is okay.

'Rose,' he replies, brushing his lips against her hair before taking another sip of tea.

'Are you all right?' She rests her hand on his thigh and squeezes gently, unable to help the brief smile that flashes over her face when he splutters slightly at her touch.

He relaxes back into her and nods, his cheek grazing her hair. 'Of course I am,' he says. 'I'm always all right. Why wouldn't I be?'

'You had to make hard choices too… that day,' she says, her voice small. She can never know the enormity of his responsibilities as the last remaining Time Lord, the sacrifices he has to make in order to ensure the stability and relatively smooth running of the universe.

'No more than any other day,' he tells her, glad she cannot see the look in his eyes. He doesn't want her to know that choosing between her and the Earth is one of the hardest decisions he has ever had to make, although he suspects that on some level she must already know. 'You get used to it after a while,' he says matter-of-factly, before frowning and dropping his head to her shoulder, burying his face in her neck. 'Although I hope you never have to,' he whispers. 'I don't want you to have to know what that's like, making hundreds of choices that could affect billions of lives. I don't want you to understand that.' He pauses and kisses the place where her shoulder meets her throat, smiling at the way her breath hitches at his light touch. He sobers up again. 'I hate that you've already had to make the choices you have.'

She strokes his hair, kisses his head where it lies against her, wanting to sooth him as though he is a child rather than a nine-hundred year old Time Lord who has spent most of his life alone. 'It was all my decision, Doctor,' she tells him for what must be the hundredth time in two days. 'It's not your fault.'

He sighs. 'I know that,' he says. 'I just wish I could do something more, something to make it easier…' He straightens up, a big smile on his face before jumping up and grabbing her hand to tug her to stand beside him. 'Maybe I can do something!'

He keeps his grip on her hand as he tows her from the kitchen and drags her through the TARDIS into the control room. He lets her go and runs to the console, leaving her watching him bemusedly as he frantically presses buttons, his life and energy suddenly springing back into action. He turns to her. 'Rose!' he exclaims, hopping like an excited child. 'There are still a few final cracks left between the universes. I have to heal them but… Maybe I could keep one of them open long enough for you to say goodbye.'

'You mean I could see my mum?' She moves to stand next to him, looking up into his face.

'Yes,' he tells her. 'Well, no, not really… Well, sort of. You could see her, but you wouldn't be able to _be_ there, if you get what I mean.'

She nods. 'I get you. Like a projection-type thing.'

'Exactly!' He grins wildly for a moment before the expression drops off his face and he frowns, hands coming up to grip her shoulders, bending down slightly so his eyes are level with hers. 'Would you want to do that, Rose? Would you want to see her to say goodbye? Or would it be too much… too final?'

She doesn't even have to hesitate to think about it. 'I want to do it.'

He nods and lets her go. 'Okay, then. Give me a few hours to sort it out. But you have to know; there's no way to get her back. And there's no way to get you there. I'm sorry.'

She feels the tears welling up inside her again, knowing that this is the last thing he can do for her before this existence becomes permanent, before her life is packed once and for all inside a blue box that's bigger on the inside than it is on the out. 'I know. I knew that when I chose to stay here, remember?'

'Good.' He says the word in an inconsequential manner, but they both know it means more than that, that he had to test to make sure she understands what is about to happen, that she comprehends the permanence of a goodbye. Especially this goodbye.

He turns to work on the console, pressing buttons and entering coordinates, pulling levers and hitting things when they don't work first time. She turns to walk away, but his voice stops her before she has gone three steps. It reminds her of the other day, the day that everything changed. 'Rose?' he calls.

She stops. 'Yes?'

'Why didn't you stay with your mother?'

She shakes slightly, a tear slipping down her cheek when she thinks of what she has lost and all that she has gained, and she can't decide which hurts more. 'Because I wanted to stay with you,' she tells him honestly.

He sucks in a loud breath and is quiet for a long time. She waits for him, unmoving, trying to stop herself from trembling. When he finally speaks, his voice is disbelieving, incredulous, and deeper than it normally is. 'Why?' he asks, as though it is an absurd thing.

She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, shakes her head to clear her tears and opens her eyes again. 'Because I love you.'

Time stands still for seconds, minutes, hours, an eternity. In that gap she can feel the TARDIS hurtling through space, sense the energy of a billion alien suns and hear the roar of life throughout the cosmos. Nothing happens, and yet everything changes.

Then she hears his footsteps behind her, feels his hands touch her waist and his lips ghost over her hair. He turns her to face him. She looks up at him, terrified that she has destroyed the delicate existence that they share, that everything has just shattered. He surprises her.

He smiles softly, touches her face and her hair, runs one hand lightly down her back and chuckles when she shivers. He holds her body tenderly against his and rests his forehead on hers so that she can feel his warm breath on her face, drying any tears she may have been thinking of crying. 'That's good,' he says finally, then laughs quietly. 'And quite right, too.'

She smiles back at him, still unsure as she hesitantly slips her arms around his waist.

He nods at her action, moving to press himself more firmly against her and in that moment she can feel the result of what her words have done to him. 'Rose,' he says, stroking her hair away from her face as his breath hitches in his throat, tension coursing through him as he prepares to say words he probably hasn't uttered out loud in centuries. He kisses her, taking the time to collect himself. His head is spinning from her declaration, uncertain why she should love someone like him, who has been the cause for so much death and destruction in this universe. But, he decides, enough self-deprecating philosophising for today. This situation is a kind of perfection he doesn't get to experience very often, and he wants to make the most of it. 'Oh angel, I love you,' he says, surprising even himself with the force behind his words. 'I love you so much.'

He kisses her again before she has time to respond, catching her lips with his and moving his mouth over hers slowly. Suddenly, he is unsure of what to do next, of how to end the moment. He wonders if perhaps they should save the cross-universe message-delivering until later and he should take her to his bed and worship her in one hundred different ways to prove the truth behind his words, or whether it would say more to her if he did the chivalrous and noble thing- the _right_ thing- and helped her to say goodbye to her mother. Slowly, reluctantly, he pulls away from her mouth but keeps his body pressed to hers as he speaks. 'I believe…' _Oh, that's croaky._ He clears his throat. 'I believe we have a goodbye to make?'

His eyes search hers, looking for any sign of hesitation or regret on her face. He finds none, and it belatedly occurs to him that perhaps if he'd told her he loves her sooner, she would have felt better about the whole messed-up situation than she has for the past couple of days.

She nods. 'Yeah. That would be good. I'll go and make some more tea.'

He smiles, kissing her temple as he allows her to slip from his grasp. 'Okay.'

She stops on her way out of the room. 'Thank you, Doctor,' she says.

He frowns. 'For what?'

She shrugs. 'For this, for helping. Everything. Anything.'

'Well, you're more than welcome.'

She smiles at him, a happy smile that reaches her eyes for the first time in days. He mimics the gesture as she turns and walks to the edge of the room, intent on going to make that cup of tea.

'Rose?' He calls her back to him just as she disappears from sight. There is a slight pause before she shuffles back into view. She says nothing, just standing and looking at him from across the room. 'I… ah…' he stutters, before sighing and shaking his head. Looking up, he fixes her in place with his gaze, his face deadly serious. 'I meant every word,' he tells her sincerely.

'I know.' She nods, and he can see the same reflected in her eyes.

'Everything will be all right,' he tells her softly, nodding towards the console, knowing that she will know what he means.

'I know,' she tells him again, smiling and closing her eyes momentarily before slowly turning and exiting the control room.

He hears her footsteps disappearing off down the corridor and turns back to the task in hand. He busies himself with sealing off cracks in the universe whilst trying to find a suitable place to take the TARDIS so they can keep a link open long enough for Rose to say goodbye to her mother. His brave, strong Rose. He loves her more than he can tell her for coming through and accepting the downside of her decision to stay with him. He doesn't let himself think about the loss that will one day surely come; the day that he will lose her, too. He curses himself for telling her that this is permanent, when really he knows it is anything but. But then, he thinks, she must know that as well. They are both changed, altered, more jaded and cynical. He can't quite decide whether it's a good thing or a bad one, before deciding that he doesn't particularly care. Because she believes in him when no one else does, she gives him a reason to fight and to live despite all that he has put her through, all the things that have been done to her because of him.

And because she loves him, and for now, that is enough to make him feel reborn.

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**A/N: **Woo, it's finished! Sorry about the crummy ending… I had issues with it LOL. It just kept growing and growing and… Well, you can probably tell it's not my finest plot resolution. Ahh well… Please leave a last review! Merry Christmas, Jenni xx


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